


Aftermath of battles in the snow

by Andreri25



Series: Loving in Doriath and Beyond [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blood and Injury, M/M, Turin panics, depictions of blood, inaccurate medical knowledge is inaccurate, injured!Beleg, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 02:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13157667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andreri25/pseuds/Andreri25
Summary: Day 4- Beleg is injured during Turin's first real battle with the march wardens.





	Aftermath of battles in the snow

**Author's Note:**

> Merry sweet holidays!

The sunrise was beautiful like no other. The birds began chirping and singing as the sky lightened and a few squirrels jumped here and there. The shy rays crept little by little from atop the trees making the frozen drops of dew glisten on the branches and the freshly fallen snow on the open field shimmer like a bed of diamonds.

And the blood shone, also.

Pools of black and disfigured orcs bodies peppered the open field that had been scenery to battle during the deepest hours of the night prior.

Above the carnage stood the proud march wardens and among them Beleg and Túrin. One had a smile upon his lips, the other a scowl of horror.

A red drop fell against the pristine frozen floor.

Time seemed to slow down as Túrin sprung forward shouting the archer’s name from across the field while he sunk to his knees, the hand held against his stomach soaked with blood.

Fallon was closer and his strides longer, thus he was by his Chief’s side a few seconds before Túrin threw himself down next to them.

“How bad is it?”

“Allow me, Beleg” the healer commanded softly, removing Beleg’s hand and taking a closer look to the wound. The gash was about an inch deep and went from his hip up to right above his navel.  Fallon frowned. “Help me get him on his back” he ordered Túrin, “This injury should not weaken him so, it is poisoned”

“What?” Túrin gaped at the bleeding gash, unmoving. He had only arrived a few weeks back at the marches, Beleg couldn’t die! He expressed so out loud and received a smack as an answer.

“Of course he will not die, child” Fallon scoffed while tearing Beleg’s tunic apart, promptly taking his lips to the upper nastier side of the wound and beginning to suck off the poison. After a few seconds he threw his head aside to spit the poisoned blood, signaling for the seventeen year old to come closer, “Make yourself useful or get out of the way for someone else to do it”

Still shaken and reluctant, Túrin inclined his body over Beleg’s and forced himself to suck at the open flesh over his hip. The taste of iron and an unhealthy acid ting on his tongue met him immediately, and he felt the muscles beneath his lips tense as Beleg cringed but was otherwise silent. 

Looking up he was met by Beleg’s intense grey eyes, staring right at him unblinking and with an odd look of morbid fascination.

It lasted but a second, and when Túrin looked back from spitting the blood in his mouth Beleg had turned his face upwards at the morning sky, is chest rising and falling heavily with his elaborated breathing.

Finally, passed a quarter hour Fallon deemed it enough and Túrin-already nauseous by the taste of blood- was allowed to sit back while Meredron dressed their Chief’s wound.

Looking around he realized all of their eight member team had gathered around and stood silent watch over them. One of them offered Túrin a waterskin and he saw her black-blood stained hands. As he washed his mouth he noticed they had piled all the orc corpses together and set them on fire.

Taking mental note for the encounters to come –it was, after all the second time he’d faced orcs and the first consisted only of a scout-, Túrin’s gaze gravitated back to Beleg. His eyes were closed but he was speaking in a low voice to the same warden that had handed Túrin the water, most certainly giving directions over their curse of action.

The teen couldn’t help a small grin at the fierce spirit of his mentor and love in spite of his wounds.

A makeshift stretcher was made of wood and tunics and Beleg placed in it to start the hike back to their quarters.

Halfway through, three wardens diverged from their course to patrol until the others could send the three that had not partaken in the battle to stay and guard their home.

For Túrin the way back was long and he tripped and fell more than once. The elleth from before –Mariel- joked that he should take his eyes to the path before him and away from their Chief, not knowing the truth of it.

Once they arrived, the three wardens were sent to relieve their mates and Beleg taken to the healing rooms. Fallon gave him a brood for the pain and afterwards laid himself on one of the beds at the other end of the room.

Everyone else went to rest too, everyone but Túrin. He hovered from the door, uncomfortable and uncertain of what to do for a while.

“Come here, melleth”

The soft command took Túrin by surprise but he obliged quickly kneeling by the bedside, his face close to his lover’s. Beleg took his chin and dipped his head for a kiss, barely a press of lax lips.

Túrin pulled back with a jump, throwing a wide-eyed look over at the sleeping Fallon. Beleg had told him that they didn’t have to hide in this place –he had already told everyone, the archer said it was important that there were no secrets between mates so they could rely on each other. However, Túrin was still alarmed by public demonstrations of affection, which seemed to delight Beleg into doing it often.

Flushed, Túrin turned back to face Beleg in time to catch a tired smile fading from his lips. A hand came up to cup Túrin’s cheek, caressing the skin with his thumb. “I almost lost you”

The angry _‘me?’_ died in Túrin’s throat when he met Beleg’s eyes.

For him -the reknown Cuthalion- to be injured by a mere orc Beleg had to be caught off guard, distracted. And that could only happen if he was looking after Túrin.

“Why?” the young man choked.

“Because…” Beleg sighed while wiping a tear from Túrin’s cheek, “…I love you”


End file.
